


Bucky Barnes and the Chamber of Ice

by celtic7irish



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky needs a hug, Gen, Happy Ending, POV Alternating, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-06-28 09:19:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15704328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/pseuds/celtic7irish
Summary: The Asset is having trouble sleeping.  Tony figures out why.  Unfortunately, the others don't necessarily agree with Tony's solution.





	1. Bucky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JacarandaBanyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacarandaBanyan/gifts).



> This is based on a very specific prompt from JacarandaBanyan. I wrote the prompt at the very bottom, if you wish for major spoilers (as in, the entire plot, minus however I decide to end this fic). Consider this fair warning.

The Asset was restless again, pacing the floor that had been provided to him by Tony Stark ( _Stark, Anthony: Son of Stark, Howard and Carbonell, Maria, creator of Iron Man, genius, billionaire, engineer, dangerous, uncontrollable; Asset ordered to kill on sight_ ).  It is too warm here, too comfortable, and the Asset doesn’t know what is expected of him.  He has no orders, no handlers, no base.  He is alone here, for all that he is surrounded by other people.  The Avengers are here, and the Asset runs through the briefs again, the words burned into his memory.

_Romanova, Natalia.  Black Widow.  Assassin.  Spy.  Defective.  Quiet, efficient, skilled with multiple weapons, or with none at all.  Asset shall attempt to return her to the fold, if possible._

_Barton, Clinton.  Hawkeye.  Sharpshooter.  Weapon of choice is the bow - compound or recurve, but also highly effective with firearms when necessary.  Disposable, not useful._

_Odinson, Thor.  Asgardian (Alien) prince.  Magic hammer.  Controls lightning.  Has brother: Odinson, Loki.  No further information.  Do not engage._

_Banner, Bruce.  Biophysicist.  Previously employed by United States military until The Incident.  Alter-Ego: the Hulk.  Triggered by emotions of anger or anxiety.  Large, strong, dangerous.  Asset is no match for Hulk, engagement not encouraged._

_Rogers, Steven.  Captain America. Leader of the Avengers.  Once known to the Asset.  Standing orders to kill on sight.  Asset does not wish to engage in combat.  Deviant behavior noted._

The Asset peered out of the windows at the dark skies, lit up by the city below.  This whole space was too large, too vulnerable.  But Tony Stark had given this entire space to the Asset as his own.  It would be rude to complain, to be willful and disobedient. Disobedience led to punishment.  The Asset did not like punishment, though he accepted that deviant behavior had to be punished, to ensure compliance.  Compliance was rewarded.

“ _Pardon the interruption, Sergeant,”_ said the voice that came from everywhere and nowhere.  The Asset froze, his eyes dropping to the ground as he settled into parade rest, his hands clasped behind his back.  The Asset had been informed that the voice - Jarvis - monitored and controlled this entire space.  It was best to listen when Jarvis spoke.

 _“I do not wish to alarm you,”_ the voice continued, softer now, _“but sir is concerned that you are not sleeping.  Are the accommodations unsatisfactory?”_  There was no judgment in Jarvis’ tone, but the Asset flinched nonetheless.   _Be grateful for such luxury._

“The accommodations are adequate,” he replied quietly, knowing the voice would pick up even a whisper.  “Please tell Mister Stark that the Asset...that _I_...am grateful.”  It was still really hard to think of himself as anything but the Asset or the Soldier, but every time he slipped up, Steve would give him those sad puppy eyes that made him hate himself for disappointing the other man, even though he barely remembered Steve beyond the vaguest impression, and didn’t remember Bucky Barnes at all.

“ _I_ _f I may, Sergeant,_ ” Jarvis spoke up again, “ _sir would wish you to feel safe here.  If there is anything that can be done to make you feel more secure, please let sir or myself know._ ”  The Asset nodded, but didn’t say anything.  The rooms were spacious, and there was heavy, sturdy furniture that could be used for cover if necessary.  The room was tactically sufficient, and structurally sound, so it wasn’t that.  The only thing the Asset could think of was that the space was simply too big, far larger than anything the Asset had had access to before.  And it was warm, too.  The Asset was not used to being warm.

The AI didn’t speak up again, and the Asset assumed that meant he was done, for the time being.  He would have to come up with a more satisfactory answer eventually, he supposed, but for now, it seemed both the AI and his master were content to leave the Asset in peace.

Silently, resigned to the fact that there would be no sleep tonight, either, the Asset resumed his pacing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Below is pretty much the whole outline for the plot. I had to split it into two spoilers, because it kept cutting off half of it!
> 
>  
> 
> **SPOILERS PART ONE WITHIN!**
> 
>  
> 
> **SPOILERS PART TWO WITHIN!**


	2. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnes is still not sleeping. Tony tries to be helpful.

Tony was hunched over the worktable, mounting the last of the arrowheads onto its shaft before holding it up and eyeing it.  Jarvis would give him exactly measurements, of course, but he liked to eyeball it himself just to see if it at least  _ looked _ like it was straight.  Off to the side, DUM-E and U were bustling about, trundling from one table to another, moving stuff around under the pretense of cleaning, and Tony was content to leave them be unless they spilled something corrosive or set something on fire, maybe both.

On his left, a three-dimensional image of the Iron Man armor was on display, waiting for him to take it apart and see if he could figure out what was wrong.  The armor kept pulling just slightly to the right, similar to when a car’s wheels were out of alignment.  It hadn’t been difficult to compensate for, but the fact remained that it was there, and Tony was going to have to fix it.  Just as soon as he figured out what was wrong.

Setting the arrow down next to the others, Tony stretched his arms over his head.  His back and neck made a soft cracking sound and he groaned.  “I’m getting too old for this nonsense,” he muttered.  DUM-E chirped, holding a coffee pot out to Tony hopefully.  The engineer rolled his eyes, but accepted the pot.  It wasn’t like anybody else drank the coffee down here, and if it was still in the pot, it  _ probably _ didn’t have engine oil or flame retardant in it.

“Thanks,” he told the bot, stroking along the bot’s strut while DUM-E purred like a pleased, demented mechanical cat.  “J, what’s next?” he asked, blinking away the dark spots in front of his eyes and swaying slightly on his feet.

_ “I don’t suppose, sir, that you’d be interested in attempting a few hours of sleep?” _ the AI asked resignedly.

Tony made a face.  “Can’t,” he said.  And it was true.  He was running on about five hours of sleep in the last eighty-seven, but every time he closed his eyes, he dreamed.  Before, it had been the usual nightmares.  Portals into space, alien invaders, drowning in the desert.  But now?  Now he had a whole new set of nightmares, and they were somehow even  _ worse _ .

Speaking of nightmares, Tony glanced over at the far corner of the workshop, where he kept a monitor that’s only purpose was for the surveillance of a single person.  The Winter Soldier, aka James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, was still pacing, as he’d been doing since Steve had left him to retreat to his own bed.

Steve didn’t know about the active surveillance, and Tony was content to keep it that way.  He suspected that Barnes knew, though, or at least suspected, seeing as that the Soldier would sometimes stare at the corner where the pinhole camera was located.  He never did anything threatening; never spoke or tried to jam or remove the cameras.  He did regular sweeps of his rooms, probably for bugs, but Tony couldn’t really blame the guy.  He did the same thing, and he knew Natasha and Clint did, too.  The only who might not was Steve, and considering the guy hadn’t even known his pretty next door neighbor with the broken washing machine was spying on him, Tony wasn’t terribly surprised.

But with him here, in the Tower, Tony found himself dreaming of that December night more than twenty years ago.  He hadn’t even been in the car, but that didn’t stop him from seeing his mother’s terror, from hearing her gasp for breath as an unforgiving metal arm choked the life out of her.  He saw his father’s face, knew what expression he would’ve been wearing.  He had known Barnes, once, if only as Steve’s best friend.  And he had mourned Barnes’ loss alongside Steve.  And then to have to stare him in the eyes as a man he’d thought long dead killed him?  Recognition and knowledge and fear and sorrow.  Howard would have felt it all. 

So now, instead of cold and dark and certain death, Tony dreamed of blood and fear and regret.  And it wasn’t like he didn’t know the reason for the new overtones of his nightmares.  He’d let Barnes into the Tower, had set his army of lawyers to work ensuring that Barnes would get a chance to live a normal life, had blocked SHIELD and Secretary Ross at every turn, had given Steve and his renegade friends a home.  And if he kept his distance from them all, and put their quarters twenty floors away from his own, well, that was his right, as owner of this building, right?

Tony wondered if Steve would have ever swallowed his pride if T’challa hadn’t more or less forced the issue, hadn’t told Steve in no uncertain terms that he could not continue to grant them refuge in Wakanda, not when they were actively attempting to open their borders to the world, one outreach program at a time.  They had gifted Barnes with a new arm, courtesy of a collaborative effort by both Tony and Shuri, though only Shuri had gotten credit for it (Tony didn’t want it, he didn’t do it for Barnes, or for Steve; he did it for himself, because he’d been the one who had taken Barnes’ arm in the first place, and because he figured he might as well while he was working on the neural interfaces for Rhodey’s legs).

Tony sighed, rubbing his face and very deliberately  _ not thinking _ about the concessions he’d made to get the rogue Avengers pardoned by the United Nations.  They hadn’t signed the Accords, but Tony had managed to convince them to at least sign a binding agreement that they would remain based in New York, where Tony - and the government - could keep an eye on them.  They were, at least peripherally, free to do what they wanted within city limits.  There were no tracking devices on them, but Tony had assured the World Governments that he could find them if they tried to leave.  And he could.  He might not, of course, depending on their reasons, but he could.

_ “If you do not intend to sleep, then, sir,” _ Jarvis spoke up, interrupted Tony’s musings,  _ “then perhaps you can at least be convinced to stop working on projects that are likely to lead to injury for a while?” _  Tony could hear the worry in Jarvis’ voice, and he sighed.

“Look, Jarvis,” he started, “I can’t.  I need to get this done.”  The need to make sure that the Avengers were equipped with everything and anything he could give them to keep them safe, to protect them, to let them defend themselves, beat through his head like the pulsing of blood through his veins, or the desperate need for oxygen.  It was a compulsion, almost, and one that he wasn’t interested in fighting.  Besides, he already knew that trying to sleep now was a lost cause, so maybe if he passed out from exhaustion, he’d get a few hours of uninterrupted unconsciousness before the cycle started all over again.

Jarvis didn’t respond, but the Iron Man rendering gradually shifted, showing the results of the AI’s scans; weak points and stressed plates and areas that needed reinforced or remade entirely.  Almost absently, Tony pulled up the data he’d gleaned from Shuri while working on Barnes’ new arm.  Between the nanites that he’d created and the vastly advanced Wakandan tech, he just knew that he could finally do it, could finally make it so that Tony Stark really  _ was _ Iron Man.  He’d just need to figure out how to protect the nanites for the suit once he’d succeeded.  His fingers tapped almost thoughtfully against his sternum as he considered, though he at least had enough self-preservation left to realize that he was too tired to really do what he was considering doing right this very moment.  It could wait for a short while.

That settled, as far as he was concerned, Tony lost himself to the lure of technology, to the sleek lines and intricate details of the Mark XXXVII, moving mostly by instinct.  Occasionally, one of the bots would offer him a smoothie, which he drank almost absentmindedly before returning to his work.  He lost track of time - not that it really mattered, Jarvis would let him know if he had any appointments - and when he finally emerged, his back aching and his vision blurring around the edges, he sighed and set his tool down, then eyed the couch in the back of the shop.  He might be lucky enough to get an hour or two of sleep now, and the couch was preferable to his bed when he was like this, anyhow.

Standing up, Tony nearly fell again, his legs having fallen asleep on him at some point.  He caught himself on the edge of the table, then eyed the floor.  Maybe he’d just sleep right here; it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

One of the bots beeped at him, and Tony turned his head to see DUM-E holding out a blanket towards him.  U was the one who had gotten his attention, his camera raised hopefully.  Tony gave them a weak smile.  “Thanks, guys,” he murmured, making another effort to get to his feet, sharp tingles running up and down his legs  “Ow, ow, ow,” he hissed as he staggered forward, U rolling up next to him helpfully so he could support himself with one hand on the bot’s strut.  Tony patted him almost absently as he made his way over to the couch, his eyes drawn once more to the monitor against the far wall.

Barnes wasn’t pacing anymore.  Instead, he was curled up in a corner of the room, his knees drawn to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, staring blankly out into the center of the room.  The sight of it reminded Tony of Steve, when he had first woken up from the ice, when everything had been big and loud and overwhelming.  But more than that, he hadn’t been able to sleep because he’d been  _ so cold _ all the time.  He’d admitted to Tony once that he sometimes woke up from nightmares feeling as if the ice had settled deep into his bones and would never leave, as if he was frozen from the inside out.  Tony had come up with a solution then, too.

“Jarvis, crank up the thermostat for Barnes, would you?  Whatever you use for Steve’s floor.  And order him some warmer clothes, you know his measurements.”

_ “Of course, sir,”  _ Jarvis agreed.  There was an almost instantaneous change in the Soldier’s demeanor on the monitors.  He straightened up, then looked towards the camera, his eyes wide and haunted before they dropped back to the floor.  The Soldier didn’t seem inclined to move, however, so after a moment, Tony waved for Jarvis to shut the monitor off and dropped onto the couch face first, not moving while DUM-E clumsily tucked him in before petting the back of his head carefully.

He was asleep within moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony, no.


	3. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Asset deals with the increase in temperature and goes for a run with Steve.

The Soldier felt the subtle change in the room as the temperature began to rise, and he stilled for a moment before slumping back down in resignation, his skin already starting to prickle with sweat.  He should have just laid down, like he was expected to. Maybe if he had at least closed his eyes and _looked_ like he was sleeping, Jarvis wouldn’t have told his master that the Soldier was being disobedient.

 

The Asset considered the time and realized that Steve would probably be up in another hour or two, and would come fetch him for breakfast and a morning run.  The Soldier liked running, inasmuch as he liked anything these days. He could wait until then, could remain still and accept his punishment. And really, as far as punishments went, this one wasn’t anything, really.  It didn’t hurt, didn’t even really register as a punishment. It was uncomfortable, yes, but no more than lying down under warm blankets would have been. The Asset was used to variant temperatures, had worked in countries of both extremes.  Russian winters and desert summers.

 

The Asset was aware that he had been lucky when Stark had agreed to bring him in, along with the rest of the rogue Avengers that had chosen to follow Steve.  Stark could have let Ross have them. The man would undoubtedly have found a place to bury their existence that was even more secure than the underwater prison known as the Raft.

 

The Asset wasn’t under any sort of delusion, though.  Bringing them in had been just as much about spitting in Ross’ face as it had been politically strategic.  A team divided was weak; it invited attack from every two-bit criminal with delusions of grandeur, and Iron Man would not be able to stop them all.

 

So Iron Man got to bring the Avengers back under control, and took care of a Big Problem all in one fell swoop.  It was genius, really. The Asset might even admire Stark’s craftiness, if he admired anything these days.

 

The Asset carefully didn’t let his mind wander, remaining still and watchful.  Just because Steve thought the Tower was safe didn’t mean that it was safe for everybody.  And letting his thoughts run loose only ever brought bad things, jagged memories and broken fragments of a life that he didn’t really remember, that he couldn’t correlate.  The Asset, Hydra’s Winter Soldier, was not Bucky Barnes. The Asset wasn’t sure he had ever been.

 

 _“Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers is requesting permission to enter,”_ Jarvis spoke up softly, as if to not startle the man sitting in the corner.  The Asset rose to his feet and turned to face the door, waiting for the AI to let the other man in.  The first few times this had happened, the Soldier had not understood that _he_ was supposed to give Jarvis permission to let Steve in.  It had been awkward until Steve had explained that they were trying to give the Asset choices.  The Soldier hadn’t understood why he should have any say at all in a place that didn’t belong to him, monitored by an invisible intelligence, and surrounded by heroes that didn’t need to ask for permission from

 

Since then, they had worked out something like a system.  If he was ready, he would stand and face the door, and Jarvis would let Steve - or whoever was out there waiting - come into the suite.  If he was unprepared, he would remain where he was, and Jarvis would turn the person away.

 

Steve stepped inside and then paused, looking around like he always did, trying not to let the disappointment show.  The rooms were exactly as they had been when the Asset had first arrived, comfortably appointed but spartan when it came to anything to which one might attach sentiment or memories.  The Asset had gotten plenty of experience in reading the slope of the Captain’s shoulders and the set to his jaw, aided by occasional glimpses (memories, he thought) of a scrawny blonde with a weak constitution and a give-’em-hell attitude.

 

Steve caught him looking and gave him a tight smile.  “Wanna go for a run, Buck?” he asked hopefully. The Asset nodded, moving out into the other room to put on his boots.  He hadn’t bothered to remove his clothing from the day before, and while Steve didn’t say anything, the way his mouth tightened indicated that he’d noticed.  The Asset consigned himself to taking a shower when they returned from their run, despite hating the way the water felt on his skin, like thousands of pinpricks.  And drying the metal arm was a bitch, often leaving towel fibers caught in the joint. The Asset would have to request that Stark perform maintenance soon, lest the metal workings of his left arm begin to malfunction.

 

“I am ready,” the Asset said once he had his boots on, his body tense even as he kept his back turned to the Captain.  He didn’t like not being able to see the blonde man, but Steve had already proven that he would not attack the Asset, that he would rather die than fight him.  He was reckless and stupid, and the Asset didn’t know what to do about that. So he let Steve stand at his back, let himself appear to be just a tiny bit vulnerable.  It made Steve happy, despite the fact that the Soldier could kill him in seconds if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to.

 

And so, swallowing down his own misgivings - there’s no room for second-guessing, Soldier - the Asset followed the other man out of the building.  It was distressingly familiar, and he tried not to think about it too hard. But he knew the truth of the matter. Where Steve went, so would he. It was the way the world worked.

 

Gritting his teeth, the Asset turned his mind towards the run, losing himself in the exhilaration of movement and momentary freedom.

 

He would have plenty of time to think about the rest of it.  Later.


	4. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finally realizes there's something going on.

_ “Sir, temperature controls have been engaged,” _ Jarvis’ concerned tone brought Tony back to the present, and he blinked for a moment, nonplussed.

 

“Where?” he asked at last, thought he had a feeling he already knew the answer.  He rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache forming behind his eyes.

 

_ “Sergeant Barnes’ suite,” _ the AI confirmed what Tony had already suspected.   _ “Water temperature has been maintained at thirty degrees Fahrenheit for thirty-seven minutes and twelve seconds.” _

 

“Shit,” Tony swore, scrubbing his hands back through his hair.  “What the hell is Barnes trying to do? Put himself back in cryo?”  Wouldn’t that just be great, to have the Winter Soldier freeze to death in the shower?  Steve would never forgive him. “You brought it back up?” he asked.

 

_ “I informed Sergeant Barnes that should he not increase the water temperature to a more acceptable level, I would be forced to shut it off entirely,” _ Jarvis told him worriedly.

 

Tony sighed.  “Yeah, okay,” he said, nodding.  “Good job, buddy.”

 

“ _ Sir, perhaps you should speak with the Sergeant?”  _ Jarvis suggested.   _ “I am beginning to notice a disturbing pattern, but it falls outside of my current parameters, so I am unsure that I am interpreting the data correctly.” _

 

That was a frightening thought, actually.  Jarvis had Tony Stark as a model for poor life choices and dangerous habits and behaviors.  If Barnes’ behaviors were making even Jarvis uneasy, then it had to be serious. “Show me what you’ve got,” he said, spinning around in his chair to give the data Jarvis was displaying his full attention.  What he saw there made him give a low whistle.

 

The sleepless nights and the cold showers were only the beginning.  Then there was the cold or frozen food and the extreme air conditioning.  It seemed as though Barnes was going out of his way to freeze himself to death.  He’d even been found in one of the enormous meat lockers down on the restaurant level of the Tower,  seemingly unconscious. The workers had freaked out - and rightly so - and called Steve Rogers. Tony hadn’t even been aware that anything was wrong, and it suddenly occurred to him that Steve was keeping it that way on purpose, trying not to call attention to Barnes.   
  


“Damn,” he said softly, “how could we have missed this?”  Jarvis didn’t reply, but it didn’t matter, he didn’t have to.  Tony already knew the answer. He had missed it because he hadn’t been looking.  He’d wanted nothing to do with the man who had killed his parents, and had only agreed to bring him in because Steve had asked him to, and Tony was a sucker for Captain America’s earnest face.

 

“Shit, okay, dumb question,” Tony admitted.  “So, next question. What are we supposed to do now?”  He didn’t really mean  _ we _ , but Jarvis offered up a suggestion anyhow.

 

_ “I suggest speaking to Sergeant Barnes, sir,” _ the AI repeated, and Tony grimaced.  He wasn’t sure he was ready for this. But Steve still saw the guy as Bucky, his long-lost pal, and it put blinders on him.  He probably thought Barnes had gotten locked in the freezer on accident and only hadn’t broken down the door out of fear of retaliation from Tony or something stupid, though Tony had to admit (if only to himself) that it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.  He was already wary about having Barnes here; destruction of property on public floors wasn’t likely to alleviate his very valid concerns.

 

“Fantastic,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration.  He did not want to talk to Barnes. But who else was going to? Steve was likely to take it as either paranoia or exaggeration on Tony’s part.  And while Natasha was probably better at getting to the heart of whatever problem Barnes was having, Barnes had no reason to trust her. Not that he had any real reason to trust Tony, either, but at least Tony had no direct ties to the Winter Soldier. Assuming that one didn’t account for the fact that Hydra’s pet assassin had killed his  _ parents _ .

 

“Where is Barnes now?” Tony asked, looking longingly at his work table.  He would much prefer to work himself into a coma than try and talk to Barnes, but there was no helping it.  If he left Barnes alone and the man did something stupid (well, more stupid), Steve would probably assume that it had been his fault entirely, and then Tony would  _ really _ feel guilty.  Steve had a penchant for taking on guilt that wasn’t his that rivaled Tony’s own.

 

_ “Sergeant Barnes is presently still on Floor Seventy-Two, sir,” _ Jarivs replied.   _ “Shall I request that he remain there?” _

 

Tony shook his head.  “Nah. If he wants to leave his floor, that’s fine.  He’s not a prisoner.” Barnes rarely left his quarters without prompting from Steve.  Tony knew this because he had Jarvis monitoring the Soldier’s location constantly. While BArnes had shown no inclination to attack any of the Tower’s residents, Tony still preferred knowing when the other man was on public floors without supervision.  For his own peace of mind, a bit, but mostly because he was ultimately responsible for the safety of thousands of employees, and he took that job very seriously.

 

_ “Very well, sir,” _ the AI agreed.   _ “Do you intend to speak with the Sergeant now? Or perhaps after a shower and some food?” _  Tony could practically  _ hear _ the disapproval in the AI’s tone.

 

“Now,” he said firmly.  That Jarvis didn’t protest showed just how concerned he was about Barnes’ odd behavior.  Which only served to increase Tony’s own worries.

 

He did take a few minutes to splash some water on his face and wash his hands before heading for Barnes’ floor, shifting uneasily on his feet while he waited for the elevator to arrive.  When it did, he waited impatiently for Jarvis to announce his presence before striding in like he owned the place. Which, let’s face it, he did.

 

“Barnes!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands.  “So I hear you’ve been trying to turn yourself into Jack Frost.  Want to tell me what that’s all about?” he asked, hands on his hips as he stared at the other man, who had been standing in parade rest upon Tony’s arrival and hadn’t moved since, only his eyes tracking the genius’ whereabouts.

 

“More information is required,” the Soldier replied steadily.

 

Tony narrowed his eyes.  “You,” he said pointing one finger at Barnes’ chest, “have been going out of your way to turn yourself into an ice cube.  Why?”

 

Barnes’ expression shifted, showing a hint of confusion.  “Cold is necessary for hibernation and recovery,” he stated.  “Cold allows the Asset to... _ sleep _ .  The Asset...I was not informed that sleep was not permitted.  Have I erred?” he asked, his tone cautious now, wary.

 

Now Tony was the one staring.  “Let me see if I understand this correctly,” he said slowly, his brain moving through several scenarios before finally settling on a conclusion that he really, really didn’t like.  “You can’t sleep because the Tower is  _ too warm _ ?”

 

Barnes hunched in on himself almost defensively.  “Asset is to be removed from cryostasis when needed for a mission,” he answered with the tone of somebody quoting from a manual.  “Asset is to be returned to stasis following successful completion of the mission. Asset requires minimal rest, provided that nutrient supplements are available.”  His eyes had slowly gone from confused to blank, and Tony found himself staring at somebody that wasn’t Barnes, but wasn’t entirely the Winter Soldier, either.

 

He licked his lips, thinking fast.  He opted to ignore Barnes’ use of the word Asset, and the fact that he still spoke of himself in the third person, like he wasn’t really a person at all.  He could only deal with one thing at a time right now. “Okay,” he said at last. “Well, regardless, we can’t have you locking yourself in industrial freezers to take a nap.  So you tell me...what do you need to be able to sleep? Is it just cold? Or do you actually have to be...put in stasis?” he asked, not really sure that he wanted the answer. He’d never tried to put anybody in cryo before, and he was pretty sure that while T’Challa (or his brilliant little sister) would be able to help him, he would really rather not find himself in the position of having to explain to Captain America why he was putting the man’s best friend on ice.

 

Barnes blinked, looking at him for a long moment.  Tony shifted impatiently, but didn’t press. The ball was in the Soldier’s court now.  “Full cryostasis temperatures are not required,” he said. “Negative eighteen degrees celsius is sufficient for hibernation.”  Tony nodded; the same temperature as the industrial freezers on the lower levels. Enough to keep frozen foods frozen, but much warmer than the 100 degrees below zero that were required for cryo.

 

“Do you need cold all the time?” he asked next.  “Or just when you sleep? Anything else I should know?”  He was already running schematics in his head. He didn’t know if it was possible, but even he had to admit that a part of him was intrigued at the very idea of building a cold room designed for a person rather than food or server banks.  It would be challenging, and would probably require several adjustments to find something that they were both okay with, but it wasn’t like it was out of the realm of possibility.

 

“Asset requires cold only for rejuvenation,” Barnes said.  “A small, contained space will suffice.”

 

Tony nodded, muttering to himself about air circulation and how small he could make the space without it being an actual cryo tube.  He almost couldn’t believe he was going to do this, and a part of him hoped that it wouldn’t be a permanent thing, that Barnes could eventually be taught to sleep in slightly warmer climes (say, 40℉ as opposed to 0℉), but for now, the last thing anybody needed was a sleep-deprived super soldier wandering around.  It had been bad enough when it had been Steve doing it, and he’d never been an assassin in the hands of Hydra. Before Steve had finally figured out that going to sleep wasn’t going to result in him losing another seventy years of his life, he had broken more furniture than Tony wanted to think about, wrecked his bike twice, and been arrested for public drunkeness, despite the fact that the man couldn’t even  _ get _ drunk.  Fortunately, Tony had an unlimited budget and a crack PR team, so it had gone as smoothly as it could have.  And now Barnes was having trouble sleeping, and all because Hydra had fucked him up so badly that he didn’t know  _ how _ to sleep if he wasn’t quite literally frozen.

 

He realized that Barnes hadn’t moved at all while he’d been lost in thought, mumbling to himself.  “Look, you know this isn’t going to happen in a day, right? I’ve got to get in touch with Wakanda, figure out what I need and how to make it as safe as possible.  How much longer can you go without sleep?”

 

The Soldier’s reply was swift enough that Tony realized he’d learned it by rote.  “Maximum period of animation is fourteen days, six hours,” he said. “Preferred parameters fall between six and nine days.”

 

Tony nodded.  “And other than the nap you caught in the freezer, you’ve been awake?” he tried.

 

Barnes appeared to consider that, his mouth working for a moment before he managed to answer.  “I have been able to enter maintenance mode for short periods of time to increase productivity and decrease instances of irrational behavior,” he replied at last, as if feeling his way through the words.

 

Tony sighed.  “So how much longer before the irrational behaviors becomes homicidal rage?” he asked, trying and failing for levity.  Barnes gave him an unhappy, but equally unsurprised, look, and Tony felt a flash of guilt. Barnes was doing his best, and other than a few mishaps when one of the others had triggered something, he’d been very well behaved.  Sort of like a wild wolf trying to pretend it was a house pet, really.

 

“If deviant behavior persists, Asset will notify…” Barnes paused, as if just realizing that he no longer had a controller, or whatever he’d called his Hydra handlers before.

 

“Me,” Tony said instead.  “You can tell me if it gets too bad, and we’ll figure out...something.  But I’m not just gonna lock you in freezing temperatures without knowing what it’ll do to you.”  He was pretty sure he could make it safe enough, and he still hoped that they’d be able to gradually increase the temperature to something approaching not-freezing, but all of that would take time.

 

Barnes nodded, accepting the new directive.  Nothing in his expression changed, but Tony still got the impression that the other man had a question.  But he had already spent way too much time in the Soldier’s presence. He needed to contact Wakanda and get started on making an ice room (he really needed a better name for it).

 

“Okay, then,” he said. “It’s settled. I will leave you to do...whatever it is Winter Soldiers do in their spare time. Or whatever.”  He was so done with this conversation. Turning around, he headed for the elevators. Some time in his lab was just what he needed. Or maybe Pepper would call with an emergency board meeting that he just  _ had _ to attend, lest the company fall into ruin.

 

“Stark?” Barnes called out, and Tony stopped, his right hand clenching into a fist before dropping, loose, at his side.  He turned around with a practiced smile, the one he used when he went before the Board, or a roomful of circling, bloodthirsty paparazzi.  Barnes looked at him. “Why are you doin’ this?” he asked, a hint of the Brooklyn drawl that Tony remembered from old videos entering his voice.

 

There were a lot of answers Tony could give.   _ Because nobody deserves what Hydra did to you.  Because I’m not as heartless as people think I am.  Because I’m tempted to put you on ice, permanently. Because if Steve knew, he’d be heartbroken, and even now, I still don’t want that.  Because I can’t help but try and fix things, even when I don’t know if they can be fixed. _  But he gave none of those answers.  Instead, he gave the simplest - and shallowest - answer, with a casual shrug and a fake grin.

 

“It’s science!”


	5. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chamber is complete!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short interim chapter to hopefully get me back into the swing of things. I hope you enjoy it!

Stark was working on the room again, as he’d done every day since he’d agreed to help the Asset.  The Soldier was watching from the shadows, still trying to figure the other man out. Stark didn’t make any sense. By all rights, he should hate the Soldier.  Instead, he was helping, trying to make the Soldier comfortable, trying to help him to function. Stark had helped with the construction of the Asset’s new arm, and now he was building a cryo chamber for no other reason than because the Asset was weak, incapable of adjusting to the new life he’d suddenly found himself in.

 

“Doing okay there, Freezer Pop?” Stark spoke up, though he didn’t look away from what he was doing to locate the Asset’s position relative to himself.  

 

“I am functioning at acceptable levels,” the Soldier replied stiffly, after a brief pause to assess his condition.  He was tense, but he wasn’t at the point where violence seemed like an appropriate response to irritation yet. If he was called upon to fight, he should be able to perform at near-peak performance.

 

“Glad to hear it,” Stark said, and to the Soldier’s continued surprise, he sounded genuinely pleased.  The Asset had learned from the last several days of watching that Stark talked a lot, but most of it wasn’t important, just something to fill the silence.  But when he said something that actually _meant_ something, his tone changed.  It was subtle; the Asset wasn’t even sure anybody else would notice, except maybe the Widow, but it was there if one was listening.  And the Soldier was listening. Always. Listening for the changes in tone, for the slight hesitation or the hint of eagerness had saved his life - and resulted in the death of his enemies - more than a few times.  The Soldier had no desire to kill Stark, but listening was a long-ingrained habit, and one that he had little interest in breaking.

 

“Anyhow, according to the Princess, this should keep the room suitably cold without needing to, say, coat it in ice or something.”  Stark was talking again, and the Soldier settled deeper into the shadows to listen. “It’s running off of my arc reactor tech, so it’s all clean energy, but we still don’t want to actually put you back into cryo.  Cap might cry.”

 

And that was another novel concept, that there might be at least one person that would feel sorrow if the Soldier was put back in stasis.

 

Stark gave one final command to Jarvis, then stepped back. “All right, Soldier.  I think that should do it. I hope. Jarvis is going to monitor your vitals using the baseline you provided, and we’ll try again if we have to, but I think I’ve got it this time.”  He looked over at the Soldier. “You up for a nap?” he asked lightly, and the Asset realized that it was only a little past three in the afternoon. It was certainly not time for sleeping, but he had no recollection of ever having followed a standard sleep cycle.  He was thawed out when Hydra needed him, and put back under when the mission was over. Time was not a factor.

 

He nodded.  “I am ready,” he said, stepping forward.  Stark stepped back, out of the way, and the Soldier paused in the doorway.  Not looking over at the other man, long hair providing a curtain, the Asset said two words.  “Thanks, Stark.” Then he stepped inside the chamber, and the door closed behind him, sealing with a quiet hiss.

 

The Soldier remained standing for a long moment, then pushed at the panel next to the door, one final test.  It blinked a green light at him, and the door opened onto an empty hallway. _“Sergeant Barnes, is there anything I might assist you with?”_ Stark’s AI asked politely, as the Soldier waited for the door to close again after a brief pause to make sure that no, he really wasn’t stepping out right this moment.  

 

The Soldier shook his head, then paused, reconsidering.  “If anybody needs me, could you jus’ increase the temperature by two degrees?”  If the chamber was as cold as it should be, any slight adjustment should be enough to awaken him without risking anybody else getting hurt if he came up swinging.

 

_“Certainly, Sergeant,”_ Jarvis replied, and he sounded almost warm.  The Soldier didn’t know how a computer program could sound warm, but then again, he hadn’t known that _people_ could sound so cold.  But Hydra had neither mercy nor warmth for a living weapon.  Perhaps that made Stark’s computer more human, rather than less.

 

“Thank you,” he said, the phrase just as awkward on his tongue as it had been when he’d thanked Stark.  The Asset hadn’t had much cause to say thank you to anybody in the last several decades; he was still a bit rusty at it.

 

_“You are most welcome, Sergeant,”_ the AI replied, then made a soft chiming noise that indicated that he had transitioned to passive monitoring.  That was something else that Stark had done, not just for the Soldier, but for all of the Avengers, when Barton had mentioned off-hand that it felt weird never knowing just how much Stark’s AI saw and heard, and when he would speak up.  So now Jarvis chimed when he switched from passive to active and back again. It was...considerate of Stark, to think of their comfort like that.

 

Now that he was certain that he was alone, and reassured that he could leave any time he wanted to, the Soldier explored the tiny room.  Stark had wanted to make it larger, like the guest rooms, but the Soldier had carefully explained that not only would that require an enormous amount of unnecessary energy usage, but it would be too large for the Asset to feel secure.  He only ever slept - or hibernated, whatever - in the small cryo pod, and this room was already a little taller than the Soldier standing up, and with enough room on the front and sides for the Soldier to make a complete circle around the bed, which had a metal frame and a firm, sturdy mattress.

 

Satisfied with the room, the Soldier stripped efficiently out of his tac gear, swapping them for softer clothing.  It was one of the luxuries he allowed himself, to wear actual clothes, rather than battle-ready tac gear. If the Soldier was needed, he would be permitted to change into his uniform prior to engaging in battle.  And Steve had promised that he wouldn’t have to fight anymore if he didn’t want to. The Asset knew that was a lie, but it was a nice one, and Steve seemed to think it was the truth, so the Soldier pretended to believe him.  It was better that way.

 

Stark had made no such promises, though, the Soldier realized.  Stark was a man that saw what the Soldier was capable of, that knew his particular skills or knowledge might be needed in the future, and would be willing to call upon the Fist of Hydra if he needed to.  Stark was strong in a way that Steve wasn’t, perhaps because he had no personal care for the Winter Soldier, or for Bucky Barnes. Whatever the reason, the Soldier was grateful. Truth was preferable, always.

 

Settling onto the bed, the Soldier closed his eyes, allowing his body to relax.  The cold sent goosebumps all along his exposed flesh, but it was soothing rather than frightening, the cold a signal that he was no longer on a mission, that nothing more was required of him for now.  He would be allowed to rest, finally.

 

Finally secure, the Soldier slept.


	6. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the Soldier sleeps, Tony runs interference. Lucky for him, it's not as hard as it could be.

“Cap is going to kill us when he finds out,” Tony mused, hands templed over his mouth as he watched the vitals that Jarvis had up on display.  Even though they seemed dangerously low for a mere human, they were well within the parameters that had been provided by Barnes and confirmed by Princess Shuri, so unless Barnes stopped breathing entirely or something, Tony planned to take a wait and see approach.

 

_ “I can assure you, Sir, that Captain Rogers will do no such thing,” _ Jarvis replied archly, something almost threatening in his tone.  Tony’s lips quirked up into a small smile.

 

“Maybe not literally,” he conceded with a nod, “but we both know that he’s going to throw a fit of epic proportions if he finds out we’re putting his Super Soldier buddy on ice.”  Jarvis’ silence indicated that he concurred with the assessment, and Tony sighed, sitting back. “Oh, well, in for a penny, in for a pound,” he muttered, stretching his arms up over his head with a jaw-cracking yawn.  He’d been working on the room in what little spare time he had between SI and the Avengers and his own projects, and he knew it was only a matter of time before either Pepper or Jarvis locked him out of the workshop. But until that happened, there was more work to be done.  There was always more work.

 

Tony hadn’t even told Bruce what he was up to, which was a lot harder than it sounded, because Tony trusted Bruce implicitly, which meant he tended to let his mouth run in a stream of consciousness that didn’t come with any sort of filter.  And it wasn’t that he was afraid Bruce would tell Steve or something. It was just that Tony was pretty sure Bruce would have some misgivings about Tony building the room in the first place, knowing its purpose. And his reasons would probably all be very logical and persuasive, and might make Tony rethink his decision to help Barnes by building him a personal walk-in freezer.  So he said nothing, and told himself that he was doing everybody a favor. Nobody wanted to deal with an irritable, sleep-deprived ex-Hydra assassin sniper.

 

Barnes’ vitals were holding steady, and with a quiet sigh, Tony left the workshop, heading for the common floors.  With Barnes taking a long-awaited nap, Tony needed to run distraction with the rest of the team, and especially Steve.  The best way to do that, he’d found, was to involve the others in something that Barnes usually refused to participate in.

 

“J, please tell me there’s a gala or an interview or something scheduled for today,” Tony murmured as he slipped into the elevator, the car moving smoothly upwards towards the Penthouse.  Barnes was not a big fan of being out in public, and while the other Avengers weren’t particularly fond of it, either, they at least understood the importance of letting themselves be seen, letting the public feel like they were cooperating, like they were  _ controlled _ .

 

_ “There is a charity ball at Stark Mansion this evening,” _ Jarvis replied swiftly.   _ “However, Miss Potts excused you from attending in exchange for your attendance at the acquisition meeting on Tuesday.” _

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony decided quickly.  “Any of the Avengers scheduled to attend?”  While their schedules weren’t nearly as packed as Tony’s was, as head of SI and co-leader of the Avengers, as well as a political and military liaison, part of the agreement of them coming back to New York with Barnes in tow was that they would have to attend a minimal number of public events, either in costume or out.  So once or twice a month, the Avengers would be trotted out to do various meet-and-greets, some of them better at playing the audience than others. If he was perfectly honest, Tony preferred to have the Widow by his side. Natasha was both demure and lethal, capable of changing her body language near-instantaneously to portray whatever was needed at that time.  Steve won people over with his good looks and earnestness. Thor was a prince, and pretty much got to do what he wanted. The public found him charming. Clint mostly worked security detail, and Pepper gave Bruce a pass for public showings. The man was practically invisible anyhow, so it made little difference.

 

_ “Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov are scheduled to attend, sir,” _ Jarvis replied,  _ “and Agent Barton volunteered for security detail.” _  Because where Natasha went, so too would Clint.  But that was good. It was great, actually. The three biggest pains in his ass would be out of the Tower for hours.  Which would only leave Bruce and Thor to contend with. Bruce probably wouldn’t come out of his lab, and Thor could be distracted with...just about anything, really.  But it still only brought him a little bit of time. Perhaps enough for Barnes to get a decent amount of sleep, though. Tony had no idea how much sleep he’d need. Steve seemed to need about four hours a night to be well-rested, though he could go for days without sleep if he was on a mission.

 

“Well, in that case, go ahead and order in some pizzas.  We’ll have a Bachelor’s night in.” Clint was going to be so jealous.  And Steve was the only one who would insist on Barnes joining them for pizza and a movie, but since he was going to be at the gala, that wouldn’t be a problem.  Which reminded him. “While you’re at it, go ahead and invite Barnes to our little party. On mute.”

 

_ “Very good, sir,” _ Jarvis confirmed.  And a moment later:  _ “Sergeant Barnes has declined your kind invitation.” _  By virtue of ignoring it, of course.  But if Steve questioned the AI later, Jarvis wouldn’t have to lie.  He asked. But there was no point in waking Barnes up for something as ridiculous as pizza and a movie.

 

Tony stepped out onto the common floor and looked around.  Steve was probably still in the gym, if he wasn’t sitting by the window, drawing, or spending time with Barnes.  Tony didn’t know what excuse Barnes had given Steve for his absence, but since Steve hadn’t followed him that morning, it must’ve been convincing.

 

He found Clint first, chomping on a bowl of some sugary cereal that was going to give him a sugar high before the gala.  Tony raised an eyebrow. “Expecting trouble, are you?” he asked.

 

Clint grinned at him.  “Always,” he agreed. “I mean, really, when is there ever not trouble?”

 

“Usually at my galas,” Tony pointed out.  “In that they’re for charity, and any bad guys who’d want to bust into a charity gala are just assholes.  Like, seriously, what kind of moron would they have to be to crash a charity for….” he trailed off, realizing he didn’t even realize what tonight’s gala was for.

 

_ “The Maria Stark Foundation is raising money to rebuild the school that was destroyed when the Wrecking Crew attacked Midtown last month,” _ Jarvis supplied helpfully.

 

“Exactly,” Tony agreed triumphantly.  “They’d be blacklisted from all future Villain Meet-and-Greets if they attacked a charity gala meant for  _ children _ .”

 

_ “Undoubtedly, sir,” _ Jarvis replied drolly.  Tony grinned when Clint snorted into his cereal.

 

“You’re the best, Jarvis,” the archer complimented sincerely.

 

_ “Thank you, Agent,” _ Jarvis replied pertly.   _ “Though I am not certain whether I should be relieved or worried that I have your approval.” _  And now it was Tony who was laughing at Clint’s mock-affronted look.

 

“Hey. Seein’ as you’re up here in the middle of the day, you lookin’ for someone in particular?” Clint asked seemingly out of nowhere, but it reminded Tony that he had, indeed, come here with a purpose.

 

“Yeah, you seen Cap around?  I want to make sure he’s got everything he needs for the gala tonight.” Clint pulled a face, and Tony smirked.  “Hey, serves you right. You went rogue, this is the price you pay.”

 

Clint shrugged. “At least I get to dress in tac gear.  And watch Nat.”

 

Tony conceded the point.  Natasha would be wearing a form-fitting black dress with a slit on either side.  He had no doubt she’d manage to stash a couple of knives, and maybe a gun, somewhere in that dress, as impossible as it might seem.  And Steve would be dressed in his army uniform. Not the Captain America one, but his actual military uniform. He’d turn more than a few heads, and would undoubtedly guilt many of tonight’s patrons into reaching a bit further into their wallets.  Pepper loved having him at charity functions, especially the ones for children and vets, both of which Steve was more than willing to attend, even if he hated ‘dressing fancy’ for them.

 

Clint was eyeing him suspiciously over the rim of his bowl as he drank the sugary milk out of the bottom.  Tony tried not to make a face at that; to each their own and all that. “What’re you up to, Stark?” Clint said at last, putting the now empty bowl back on the table, his upper lip covered in a milk mustache.

 

Tony smirked. “Where would the fun be in telling you?” he asked, turning around and heading back out of the kitchen, heading for the stairs.  The gym was only two floors down; he could take the damn stairs. “Oh, by the way,” he added casually, pausing at the doorway, “you might want to avoid wandering the vents the next couple of days.  You know, for your own safety.”

 

And then he was out the door, Clint’s startled shouts chasing after him.  “What? Why? Stark, what did you do to the vents?!” Good, let the archer worry for a bit.  Tony hadn’t actually done anything to the vents, though Jarvis did occasionally send a small army of cleaning bots through them, usually when Clint was busy elsewhere for a while.

 

Whistling cheerfully to himself, Tony made his way to the gym, where he could hear Steve going at it on the specially reinforced heavy bags.  He would’ve thought that punching bad guys would have been enough for Steve, but the man apparently just really enjoyed hitting things. Steve had confided in him once that a large part of the appeal was simply that he  _ could _ .  He’d been scrawny and sickly prior to Erskine’s and Howard’s Super Soldier experiment, and had spent most of his time  _ getting hit _ .  It was nice to be able to finally hit back and actually mean it.

 

Whatever.  Tony shook his head.  There was no time to think about that now, or about Cap’s best friend, asleep in what basically amounted to a cryo chamber.  Right now, he needed to keep Steve busy until Pepper swept in to inform him that he should’ve been ready twenty minutes ago and  was going to be late if he didn’t get a hussle. Just enough that Steve wouldn’t think too much of it when he missed seeing Bucky before he left.

 

Pausing for just a moment to get his thoughts in order and make sure his voice wasn’t going to betray him, Tony pasted on his media smile and stepped into the gym. “So, Cap, I was thinking…”


End file.
